


Lemon Sugar

by kingbooooo



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, F/M, M/M, Not Another Saint Sebastian Reference, PWP, The Terror Bingo 2020, Vaginal Sex, baby deer James, can't say no to extended metaphors, disaster bi Francis, jour d'hermes, talking about sex while having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 00:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingbooooo/pseuds/kingbooooo
Summary: “Well?”  James is doing his Bambi routine, batting his lashes.  If he opens his eyes any wider, they’re likely to fall out and go rolling along the floor.He is so very like Bambi, all wobbly long legs and big brown eyes.  Easy to startle and shock.  One time Francis told James he didn’t particularly care how he took his tea and anyway, coffee is much better and James didn’t say anything for an entire five minutes.- - -James screws up his courage to ask Francis about the more…personal details of his relationship with Sophia.Francis is more than happy to oblige.
Relationships: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Sophia Cracroft/Francis Crozier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	Lemon Sugar

“You did…what?”

James’ face is half-surprise, half-horror.

“I don’t understand why this is so scandalous, dear. I’m not going to tell you this if you’re going to say how disgusting you find the whole thing. Far too many gay men think casual misogyny is cute. I find _that _disgusting.”__

__James frowns._ _

__“That’s not, I, I don’t-” He pauses, collecting himself, the deep lines smoothing a bit. James hasn’t shared many photos of himself as a kid with Francis (“bad childhood,” James mentioned, the explanation coming out in bits and pieces as he thaws), but Francis often wonders when the grooves appeared. If there exists a baby photo of a chubby round face, punctured by small divots._ _

__James continues. “What…what did you see in her? I don’t really know what that’s like. I can appreciate beauty but…”_ _

__Francis shrugs. He’s only surprised it’s taken them this long to get around to the topic of Francis’ bisexuality. And his relationship with Sophia._ _

__“Sex. We had sex. Good sex, and lots of it.” Francis feels a grin tug at his face. He is enjoying this, hoping that what is horrifying James is that Francis had sex with someone other than James, rather than specifically with women. Or one woman in particular._ _

__Their relationship had been tumultuous. Like a circus on fire. Francis likes to say, “Doomed from the start,” as though he is some kind of seer. He isn’t. And while he was in it, the whole thing had felt so terribly exciting._ _

__James is exciting, and the relationship is stressful, but not because of the fights (they don’t really fight that much, James’ outrage almost all mock), but rather because Francis is so very unsure of where he stands with James. James is all surface. Francis thought him shallow when they’d first met years ago. He was wrong, thankfully, surprisingly. James is a pond in winter. Beautiful, with an unknowable depth._ _

__But Francis and Sophia….what didn’t they fight about? Money. Francis’ drinking. Sophia’s shopping habits. Her aunt and uncle. His friends. The ludicrous stunts they would pull because the makeup sex was so good. One time they had a two-hour screaming match about how to load the dishwasher._ _

__It was not about the dishwasher, but Francis did not realize that until he quit drinking and got serious about therapy_ _

__James is still looking at him._ _

__“Well?” James is doing his Bambi routine, batting his lashes. If he opens his eyes any wider, they’re likely to fall out and go rolling along the floor._ _

__He is so very like Bambi, all wobbly long legs and big brown eyes. Easy to startle and shock. One time Francis told James he didn’t particularly care how he took his tea and anyway, coffee is much better and James didn’t say anything for an entire five minutes._ _

__“Well what?”_ _

__Francis bends in close to James, who opens his eyes even further. How does he do that? Francis pauses before looping his fingers into James’ hair._ _

__He’d cut it very short when he was at uni. Francis has seen a picture._ _

__“It’s ok, you can laugh, I look like someone dressing up as a Roman for a frat party. All I’m missing is a bedsheet toga. God, those bangs. Someone let me trim them myself.”_ _

__Francis yanks. Gently. James lets out a squeak._ _

__“She had the loveliest soft skin.” Francis kisses James below the ear._ _

__“Always smelled like…this wonderful citrus smell.” Francis inhales. James also likes something citrusy. It’s the soap he uses, but it’s not as sweet. A little earthier. Tarter. Francis’ tongue darts out to taste James’ skin. Not soft or pale like Sophia’s, but it does pink the way hers did. Another fast lick and it begins to flush._ _

__“The most beautiful breasts,” Francis murmurs, pressing James into the couch. “They’re so soft. And warm.” Francis nips James’ earlobe, and James makes a noise a bit like if he’d fallen on his ass. Like Bambi on the frozen pond._ _

__“Go, ah…go on,” James says._ _

__“I thought this grossed you out.”_ _

__James sits up._ _

__“Look. I don’t think this is going to make me want to start shagging women, but well…it’s kind of hot.”_ _

__Francis grins._ _

__“Beautiful tits. Just beautiful. And pretty pink nipples. They’d darken when I pinched. And she liked it when I did.”_ _

__Sophia was a flirt and a tease. Turnabout was fair play._ _

__“Please, Francis,” she’d beg as he gently pressed a thumb and forefinger together and twisted, slowly, until the tender skin tightened and hardened, until the flush bloomed right below that notch at her throat. Sophia would whimper and plead until she was nearly overcome. And then she’d wrap her arms around him, slender and pale and strong, surprisingly so, and pull him down onto her._ _

__Then it was simply a matter of getting out of one’s clothes._ _

__Francis kisses James’ neck._ _

__“Bed. Now,” Francis growls, James only happy to comply._ _

__Even naked, Francis liked to take his time. Sophia’s breasts would flatten against her when she was on her back. Easier for Francis to kiss, nip with his teeth, lightly. When he’d look up from his handiwork, there would be a sheen from her neck, lacing between her tits and underneath. It smelled like her. Home. A house built on sand. An uncomfortably unstable place to lay one’s head. A dangerous place to unlock one’s heart. Lucky for him he never truly did._ _

__He’d locked it up more tightly after. Better safe than sorry._ _

__James is on his back, looking like some renaissance artist’s wet dream sprawled across the sheets. Saint Sebastian in Calvin Kleins. He loves white sheets. Francis does not. The compromise is black pillowcases and the towels in the nightstand. White sheets are not for human use. They are a broken promise and a disappointment. When Francis voiced that opinion, James smirked and accused him of being a washed-up beatnik._ _

__“Off,” James orders, pointing at Francis’ belt and trousers._ _

__The buckle opens, and the button, his cock pressing against the fly. James gets him so hard. So hard._ _

__James likes it when Francis holds him down._ _

__“How will I know if- I mean- I-” Francis hadn’t wanted to bring up his sex life with Sophia but, “well, we had, ah. Fuck. I’m bad at this.”_ _

__“Mmmmm,” James murmured. “You are actually very good at this, by the way. A word? Oooh. Britannia!”_ _

__“Uh…”_ _

__“My best costume in my pantomime days. Oh you’re blushing!”_ _

James _loves_ being held down. 

__Normally Francis would be murmuring endless, repetitive praise. This time, though-_ _

__“Keep going,” James pants. “Keep telling me.” He arches up, like his chest is a bud blooming up to the sun, a bud that Francis is eager to mold and prune. James would make a beautiful bonsai, Francis thinks, a thought that is gone the moment he even thinks it, pushed out by James and his ridiculously gorgeous body._ _

__James smells like a summer day spent mowing the lawn and drinking cheap beer. He smells like 6am cardio and cold brew. He smells like coming in from the cold after a morning on the slopes._ _

__He tastes even better._ _

__“It’s beautiful,” Francis says as he tugs down James’ boxer briefs, the task more difficult by the artful tangling in the sheets. James’ dedication to the aesthetic is thorough._ _

__“It’s soft,” he continues. “She kept everything trimmed. And wet. Don’t laugh, but it really is like a flower. Towel. James, towel.” He prods James in the thigh to get his attention._ _

__James scoffs. He also pulls out a towel and a small bottle of lube._ _

__“Wet. She got so wet. What a fucking turn-on. Like an entire sheet of gold stars. The whole area gets so rosy. So wet. Just slide a finger or two in-”_ _

__At this, Francis pushes one well-lubricated finger into James, past the first ring of muscle, and the second. James is always so tight. He groans. Francis used to think it was all for show. Part of sex is, of course, a performance, but it’s for Francis. It’s all for Francis._ _

__“It felt so good, her squeezing down on my fingers. Sometimes I’d push a third one in.”_ _

__James writhes beneath him. Francis thrusts his finger in, setting a pace to James’ small short moans and sighs._ _

__“And then?” James’ voice is a rasp._ _

__“And then, James, dearest, I’d fuck her. Right in her cunt.”_ _

__Sophia’s preference was for Francis to fuck her from behind, his thighs slapping against her pert backside. One time she’d suggested letting him finish across her tits. Francis had agreed energetically._ _

__It happened to be something that was much better in theory than in practice. Francis’ aim was not good. He’d finished across her tits. And her stomach. And her neck. He’d missed her eyes, but not her hair._ _

__It was a terrific mess. Neither of them spoke of it again._ _

__Francis’ preference though, was Sophia on top, her gripping his cock, his hands free to touch her nipples or roam lower, run a thumb around her clit. Sophia would put her hand on his to guide him until he learned what she liked. Sometimes he’d sit up. Wrap his arms around her and thrust up, up, up into her heat until Sophia’s eyes clenched. She’d bury her face in his shoulder, her arms tight._ _

__She liked to scratch a bit. Her nails digging in, her moans into his shoulder was near enough._ _

__“She was so tight,” Francis says, pushing James’ legs apart. “Yeah?”_ _

__“Please,” James begs. “Please.”_ _

__“Please what?”_ _

__“Please put your cock in me.”_ _

__Francis presses the head of his cock, dark and hard, against James’ hole. It’s not the same as Sophia, of course. He could slide gently into her. James is a bit more work. He pushes again, watching his cock disappear into James. Francis loves wringing every last bit of pleasure from his partner._ _

__James grunts as Francis’ cock fits in._ _

__“Alright there James?”_ _

__“Yeah. Just-” he hisses. “Just my luck to fall in love with a man with a huge cock.”_ _

__“You could fuck me if you’d like, so I know how it is.”_ _

__“Yeah?” James looks up. “I just may take you up on that. But first…go ahead. Slow.”_ _

__James feels different from Sophia. Not better or worse, if Francis is to look at it clinically._ _

__But James isn’t Sophia. He is both different and better. It is a haven built with brick and mortar. It took time. The foundation got taken down more than once, Francis and James inspecting it. Sometimes pointing at each other like tourists lost in a foreign city, arguing over a map._ _

__They had a fight about how to load the dishwasher too, but this fight hadn’t ended in yelling and tears and furious and ultimately unsatisfying sex._ _

__“Fine. If you really want to load the drinking glasses like that…” James had said. He was standing behind Francis, his arms wrapped around Francis’ waist, his head tucked into Francis’ shoulder so they could both look at the dishwasher and the vexing drinking glasses._ _

__The foundation was solid. The heat from Francis’ relationship with Sophia burned hot. Hot and destructive._ _

__James’ love burns bright, bright and warm. It keeps Francis safe, like a campfire banked low._ _

__The intricacies of the solidity of his relationship are very far from Francis’ thoughts. His goal is to fuck James through the bedframe._ _

__“Am I?” James gets out._ _

__“Are you what?” Francis thrusts._ _

__“Good? Better than Sophia?”_ _

__“You are good.” Another thrust. “So good.” Another. “You’re so good, James.” One more and he bottoms out, James reduced to near mindless noises._ _

__He is good. James is so very good, under Francis or on top. He is always good. He is the bit of Francis he didn’t know was missing. What a life, incomplete, faded and flavorless._ _

__James once confessed, after three glasses of wine, that he was nothing but a “hot, horny mess.”_ _

__James was a mess. He is a mess, the most beautiful colorful mess. He is that and so much more._ _

__“Better than Sophia.”_ _

__It’s not much longer._ _

__They finish at nearly the same time, a minor miracle and a surprise that leaves them both breathless and laughing._ _

__Francis makes himself comfortable on the bed while James pads off to the shower._ _

__“Did you enjoy that?” Francis asks as James emerges, freshly washed, his hair up in a towel twist._ _

__“How’s that?” He shakes the towel off, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting even longer than usual, which is a damned shame since he won’t let Francis try to braid it. “Oh. Yes! Yes, I did.”_ _

__He tosses himself onto the bed. James thinks this is a fun, flirty move. He forgets that he is not a gazelle, nor a baby deer, but rather a 6 foot 1 collection of angles and corners. He has hipbones that could put an eye out. Francis rolls away just in time to miss getting clipped by a rogue joint._ _

__“Just one more thing,” James says, lowering his lids, his Bambi eyelashes on full display._ _

__“What?” Francis props himself up so he can admire James. James wants to be admired. Francis likes being a willing audience._ _

__“Which one of us is prettier?”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: The scent that Sophia is wearing? Jour d’Hermes, one of my favorites. The soap that James uses is verbena, another one of my faves. Both have a wonderful citrusy lemony smell.
> 
> This fulfills my "vaginal sex" square for the Terror Bingo.
> 
> Thank you always to Kami for being a willing audience for all my fics and fic ideas. 
> 
> Come find me on Twitter! It's kiingboooo (two i's)


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